


The "Story" Acrostic.

by LarkandLioness



Category: Shades of London Series - Maureen Johnson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Library, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Crush, Books, Codes & Ciphers, Developing Relationship, F/M, Librarians, One Shot, POV Alternating, POV Male Character, POV Third Person Limited, Pining, Scarves, Studying, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-03 20:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarkandLioness/pseuds/LarkandLioness
Summary: Stephen woke up clutching his strange blanket around him, and realised where he was than he felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned his head, and saw her standing over him with her hand outstretched towards him. Her eyes were full of conflicted sympathy. He hurriedly got up and took the improvised blanket off. "Sorry, sorry! Is this yours then? By chance, I mean? I, er --" What did he mean? He thoughts went in circles.Surprisingly, Stephen came out of it with his mind made up.





	The "Story" Acrostic.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I'll definitely try to write something this month, but it'll be difficult because I traditionally sweep everything else aside to read THE LORD OF THE RINGS! 
> 
> Plus, I'm feeling a little burnt out. I really, really wish I had a beta to help with the creative process. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this. It's helped keep me going!
> 
> Prompts are at the end of this work.

It was a busy day when the pensive - looking boy on the red bike absently swerved past honking cars, and past construction barrels. The wind pushed his dark hair back from his pale forehead. Stepnen muttered to himself about a case as he let his bike take him down a road that grew smaller and more twisted than it should be. In fact, the boy hardly noticed when the road abruptly smoothed out under his tyres. 

Until, that is, he fell right under the shadow of a place untouched by destruction. He skidded to a stop and set one food on the ground. His eyebrows rose high in surprise as he stared straight ahead. A long, low library made of brown brick stood before him. To Stephen it had the look of a short, squat, homely friend who recongised him in a crowd, and eagerly straightened up to greet him.

Stephen did the only thing he could. He pushed the heavy wooden doors open, and went in. He craned his neck to examine the shelves. They have surprisingly extensive range of material on record, he said under his breath. He looked carefully at everything: The students at wooden desks tucked into nooks by the North wall. Patrons lounging in fat, cozy-looking red and navy arm chairs that were right next to the bookshelves. 

Stephen thought to himself, I could spend a lot of time if I came here to do research. He mused it over as he trailed a finger down the books' spines. But how to tell Boo and Callum? Should he even try to explain? In a flash, he imagined Boo wander around, staring at the books as if they were fascinating otherworldly objects. He pictured Callum's blank, unimpressed face before he curled up onto a couch with a video game. 

Stephen shook his head. "After all, I'll be here the most." He muttered to himself. Then he took long strides to the help desk, and signed up for a card without a second thought.

He picked out books. Then he saw her -- the librarian. Her long, dark, silky hair fell over her face as she scanned a book. Stephen froze. He looked around. People jostled him out of the way. Far more than he remembered from before. Stephen began to panic. A knot formed in his stomich. He had no choice: every other line was too long, so he screwed up his courage, and shyly took his books up to her. She smiled at him. This librarian's black blouse suited her, he thought. Her name tag read "Aurora Deveaux."

She spoke to him. "Hello, how are you? Did you find everything okay?" She asked. Her voice was thick, warm, golden honey. Stephen's first thought was that he could listen to her voice for hours. her vowels turned to gold and slowly dribbled down the sides of an imaginary honeycomb. Stephen shook himself out of it. His second thought was "She's not from around here? American, than. If he had to guess, he'd say the south. She was lazy with her R'."How's the weather?" She asked him, and all his thoughts were undone. 

He muttered something in reply. 

"Good." She said kindly. She ripped off a receipt and slipped it in his top book. "Your books are due back in two weeks." She added. 

He shyly thanked her and wished her well. "You're welcome, you come back 'round and have a good day!" She replied.

He began pining before he'd put the kickstand up.

***

The librarian told Stephen "Call me Rory." She seemed to like him -- or at least like seeing him mortified at books she left out for him. When it happened the first time, Stephen may have staired wide-eyed and a bit slack-jawed at the book sitting on his chair, jacket visible to the world. His face heated up, and he averted his gaze. He either tried to put it back on the shelf, or gave the table he was working at, and the entire section of the library, a wide berth until closing time. Rory chatted him up more openly that day, her brown eyes alight with amusement. Stephen frowned at her, but she only smiled and laughed. She had the best laugh. 

Stephen's mouth twitched once, and he shook his head at her in exasperation before he walked away with his books under his arm. He got on his bike and petaled down the street with a worried expression on his face the whole way home. Automatic lights followed him up the stairs as he climbed up to the third level. A coat already hung on the rack when he came in. Boo came out of the loo while she smacked her hands together. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you! It's clean now, but it still reeks!"

Stephen made a non-committal noise of disgust. "Where's Callum?" He asked, he put his book bag down on the brown couch and sat down.

"In bed. Says he's got a thumping headache." Boo said, kicking clothes out of the way as she walked towards him. 

Stephen frowned. "Is he alright? Isn't it a bit early for that?"

Boo flopped on the couch and rolled on her side to face him. Her brown eyes were dark with emotion. "We had a fight earlier, and by the time I found him, he was almost completely sloshed and I had to go save him from being torn apart. I had to get him home, yeah?"

***

Callum came out to later get something to eat. Than Stephen put the kettle on. "It's alright to ask Boo out." He said, handing Callum a cup. "You're the most dedicated yet when it comes to terminating ghosts. I know you won't let a relationship stand in the way of that. And if by chance something should go wrong, I'll take the fall."

For a moment Callum stood in disbelief, and Stephen stood in front of the stove with a small smile playing on his lips. Then Callum stepped forward and gave him a one-armed hug. Thanks, mate. I owe you one!"

Stephen brushed it off. "No problem." He said without looking up. He knew Callum would have already ran out of the room.

***

Summer faided to autumn as Stephen studied like mad for his finals.The library had the same comfortable atmosphere waiting for him every time he pushed open its dark wooden doors. It soothed him to go there and study every forthnight. It helped aid him to get into that proper way for serious focus on his studies in Criminal Justice. He didn't need loud distractions from his flatmates every hour, thank you very much, Stephen thought with a stab of annoyance at his best, and only friends. He liked to have certain conditions met: The same general seat by a window on the second level that looked out on the east courtyard. His usual black coffee by his elbow.

He had a dream Rory helped him to a chair, and covered him with a jacket or scarf. He woke up as Rory hovered over him. She obviously hesitated to wake him up. He hurriedly took the improvised blanket off. "Sorry, sorry! Is this yours then? By chance, I mean? I mean --" He didn't know what he meant. His thoughts were on a loop of "She loaned me her clothes, she loaned me her clothes, she loaned me her clothes."

"You knew I was here? Why didn't you wake me?" He asked.

"...There's no shame in falling asleep, Stephen, so long as..." She sighed. 

At her look, a crack opened in his chest, and that cold tight ball that had lain in his chest forever - even if pressed he would never admit felt most like "I am about to cry" - melted at a single ray of warmth pooled inside him. His heart began to pound. Warmth and loneiness ached in his chest.

Stephen needed just a few moments to gather his wits, and leave. He left his stack of books behind and sped home. The flat was messy as always, but empty. Callum and Boo must have gone to a nearby club without him. He felt a pang of loneiness in his chest that his only friends were gone, and made a mental note to check on the two later. 

"At least I won't have to explain things." He thought, relieved. He needed some time alone to gather his thoughts. Stephen put the kettle on. Tea would help warm him up, calm him down. Tea would fix everything. He paced the kitchen in a few steps, deep in thought over the day's events. He only paused to anxiously and impatiently check the tea kettle.

Stephen couldn't easily put a name to his feelings for the brunette librarian. He couldn't reason them away. She was like a wide patch of sunshine in his life. One that instantly made his day better. Being around her never drained him. "I never get tired in her presence." On the contrary, her energy enveloped him in warmth. 

She was funny, and always made him feel like laughing. Even on his worst days.

The merest brush of her hand against his own electrified him.

She was quite lush, he admitted to himself. 

When she smiled, he saw a spark of light in her eyes that he ached for it to enter his chest. He ran his hands through his hair. Then he put his head in his hands and let out a loud, exasperated sound. He needed to snap some much-needed sense into himself. The way things were headed... He stopped and tore his hands through his hair. He couldn't fancy her! Oh, god. He did. No, it just wouldn't do! 

And yet...and yet...he never planned to care! He never thought, when he walked in, that he would fall in love. But there was this dark, frozen wasteland he feared to explore. A jagged chasm. And Rory extended her hand and if their hands met, something terrifying would happen.

It was important to note that Stephen was reluctant to admit it, but he was a bit lonely. He had his friends, Callum and Boo, but there was little to talk about or enjoy with them. 

The room darkened as steadly as his thoughts. Stephen switched a lamp on, the mess was bathed in a cheerful yellow glow. Then he wrote a list by its light -- a list of all the reasons why he should never go back to that friendly, perlis building. He sat, and stared at the paper for a long time. A headache began to throb in his temple. He weighted his reasons against his feelings and at lazt crumpled the paper into a ball. "It really wouldn't be so bad," He tried to reassure himself. "As long as nothing bad happens." Stephen took a sip of tea and grimaced. It had gone cold.

Stephen sat on the edge of the couch. His friends sat on either side of him. "Why do you like her?" 

Stephen crinkled his forehead. It was difficult to put into words, even to himself. "Because she looks at me kindly," He finally answered. "Like she--" He almost said 'Like she can see me.' He caught himself, and went on. "Because she's funny and intelligent," He said, subconsciously leaning forward. "And she walks in beauty. She is so beautiful it hurts me sometimes." He turned red. "And because that's all I know about her, and damn it, I want to know more!"

The others were shocked, But Stephen, surprisingly, came out of the conversation in the end with his mind made up. It took awhile to set things up, but Rory seemed confused but happy when he showed up each week, and carefully set his choices down in front of her.

She brightened up as soon as she saw him. "Why, look who decided to finally come back 'round!" She greeted him. "How've you been s--Stephen?"

After that, even if he never said much, both felt as though he'd never been away. The only thing that changed was the oddly low number of books he checked out. And even than, he always made time to talk to her. After a couple weeks, Rory commented "You have unusual taste in books, jumping from genre to genre like that. Want to tell me why?"

Stephen just gave her a real, small smile. Then he put his books under his arm and walked out without a word. The next time he came in, he asked her to figure out his book pattern. "Here's a hint: question mark." He walked away. The next day, he came to the check out counter feeling hopeful that she'd have an answer for him, but Rory scanned his book with uncharacteristic silence."Your book is due back in a forenight." She said evenly. She ripped off the receipt and scribbled something on the back without even looking at him.

Stephen walked out to his transportation, dejected, only to find that the back of the receipt had a restaurant, time and date scribbled on the back with the words "Don't be late!"

**Author's Note:**

> Person A is a librarian Person B often visits.Person A often leaves silly books on things like pick-up lines or sex positions on Person B's chair while they're looking for books. It's just Person A's way of flirting. Person B never says much about it, but they always check out with Person A. After a couple weeks, Person A remarks that Person B has an unusual taste in literature, jumping from romance, to mystery, to horror with no notice. Person B just smiles. 
> 
> The next time Person B comes in they ask Person A to try to figure out their book pattern, only winking then walking out. Person A studies the list of books, and eventually realizes the first letter of each title spells "WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME" 
> 
> The next day, Person B comes to the check out, looking hopeful, but Person A simply scans their book without saying anything, rips off the receipt, and scribbles on the back. Person B walks out to their car, dejected, only to find that the back of the receipt has a restaurant, time and phone number with the words "Don't be late!"
> 
> "I found you after you fell asleep studying, and don't know if I should wake you up or not."


End file.
